


Marital Probation Bliss

by Rowaine



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Snarry-A-Thon Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-25
Updated: 2015-03-25
Packaged: 2018-03-19 15:33:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3615153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowaine/pseuds/Rowaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Voldemort's been gone five glorious years, and the magical world is slowly coming back to sanity. The one exception is their hero, Harry Potter - his job, his friends, and his love life all seem to be lacking. Regret urges him toward a decision that will shake the foundations of his life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Marital Probation Bliss

**Title:** Marital ~~Probation~~ Bliss

 **Author:** Rowaine ([rowained@yahoo.com](mailto:rowained@yahoo.com))

 **Other pairings/threesome:** Slight mention of Harry/Ginny (past), and Hermione/Lucius (present)

 **Rating:** NC-17

 **Word count:** Eep! Let me get out the abacus... Just over 7700, not counting the header etc.

 **Warning(s):** Dubiously consensual kissing and grumbly consensual sex, eventually. Profanity and name-calling, a few thrown household items... you know, the usual happy marriage. Not a 'serious' story!

 **Prompt:** #113: Harry decides to rescue Snape from a life in Azkaban by marrying him. Snape decides to exact a long, slow revenge by acting out the role of perfect housewife with exactness, attention to detail, and a vicious flair that is perfectly Snapey. A delightful prompt by the lovely and talented shiv5468.

 **Summary:** Voldemort's been gone five glorious years, and the magical world is slowly coming back to sanity. The one exception is their hero, Harry Potter - his job, his friends, and his love life all seem to be lacking. Regret urges him toward a decision that will shake the foundations of his life.

 **A/N:** Sorry shiv, but I'm not sure how vicious I made the Snape. There's a few spots, but... yeah. Hope you like the effort though! And a huge hug and smooch to the mods for running this delicious festival, year after year – no matter how it's set up, what categories or prompts are involved, the art and stories always bring a smile to my face.

 **Betas:** The ever-patient, perceptive, tenacious, delightful, and hug-worthy talents of Carry145, Elfwreck and AuctaSinistra... Ladies, I owe you both a lifetime supply of chocolate/brownies or whatever cravings you prefer.

 

 

“Harry, do you really think this is the best course of action? He'll be even more vicious than usual, you know. And the Weasleys don't understand at all. Especially Ginny! Please tell me you're not jumping in like you always do. That you've thought this through, weighed the reasons for and against.”

Briefly stopping her rant, Hermione accepted a cup of tea from her new husband. “Thank you, Lucius. But kindness won't get you out of trouble this time. Why didn't you tell me about this insane plan before the paperwork was completed?”

With well-honed reflexes, the Malfoy patriarch fled his bride's well-aimed foot, backing out of the airy sitting room. It had been his idea for his bride to have this meeting at their home. After all, good relations between the magical world's saviour and the new Mistress of Malfoy Manor would benefit the family.

Hermione turned back to her oldest friend with a sigh. “Honestly! Your son is easier to keep out of trouble these days.”

A cheery baritone voice called from down the hall, at a safe distance, “But not nearly as dashingly handsome.”

Glaring in her husband's direction, Hermione growled. She nodded in satisfaction at the quick retreat and distant crash, then flashed her ire at the other moron in the manor. “Harry, seriously... There must be another way to do this.”

For the first time in this nearly hour long inquest, Harry Potter, hero and savior of the magical world, was allowed to speak. His tongue felt glued to his palate, and no amount of tea or liquor would fix the problems he now faced. “The paperwork's been done, 'Mione. All that's left is to pick him up and bring him home.”

“And consummate the marriage,” she added with a delicate snort. The deep flush on her best friend's face almost, _almost_ made her regret the words. “That's something you hadn't thought about, I suppose? Well, there are several wonderfully informative books in the library here.” Even through the apoplectic shock, Hermione knew Harry would never back out on his word. “You're too noble, Harry. I'm quite sure Professor Snape will be simply _overjoyed_ to hear that he's to be married to his childhood enemy's only son. And just how many times did you serve detention with him, hmm? How happy do you think you'll be for the rest of your natural life, living and sleeping with the 'greasy git' of the dungeons?”

Harry took a deep breath, calling on every reserve of strength he had, and let it out slowly. Now was not the time to get on Hermione's bad side. “I have considered that, and there are potions to help. And no, I'm not having _that_ talk with you. Hermione, you're my sister-in-heart, but there are some things you just don't need to know!”

The only sign that such personal matter had perturbed her was a light flush to her cheeks.

“The papers have all been signed. The estate at Godric's Hollow is complete and ready to be furnished. Today's my last day. Kingsley wasn't thrilled, but he said that I can come back after Snape drives me to distraction in a few months. The release papers are signed and I'm to pick him up tonight. I've even got a good barber ready, and a tailor coming in as well.”

Sighing again, she had to ask, “Have you spoken with Professor Snape about your plans?”

 _And this is why I have to love Hermione even when she drives me batty. Of course I've missed the most hazardous part of my plan!_ Muttering so low she could barely hear, he whispered, “Knew I was forgetting something...”

“Oh Harry! He's going to be absolutely furious!”

Yes, Harry thought, shuddering at the upcoming confrontation, yes, he will be.

~ * ~

Per the instructions on his pardon, Severus Snape was led out of the Ministry of Magic's processing department. Naturally, not a one of the cretins had mentioned why he was being released, or into whose custody. Minister Shacklebolt ducked his dark, bald head under the low door lintel and headed his way.

Voice raspy with little use, Severus cleared it and swallowed before asking, “To what do I owe this unexpected boon, Minister?”

Four Aurors maintained a vigilant stance around the newly-released wizard. Whether to insure his health from would-be assassins or to protect his visitor, Snape was betting toward the latter. Regardless of their official purpose, the quartet took up much of the small room. A quick glance showed only two chairs and a low table, holding a picture of water and two glasses, and the generic wall sconces used throughout the magical world. Neither holding cell nor interrogation room, the space was barely eight foot square. Once Shacklebolt's large frame joined the cramped area, it would be standing room only.

With an eye on the obviously eavesdropping Aurors, Kingsley ordered the room clear for a private chat with the newly discharged prisoner. He swept the room for listening spells and devices, then offered Severus a chair. “Let us speak plainly, Snape. You should never have been sent to Azkaban in the first place. That decision was, ultimately, your own. Through whatever sense of guilt over your past, and the devices of our late leader, you have served five years and one day – the minimum sentence simply for having the Dark Mark on your arm. A good portion of the magical world believes you should have gotten medals instead, and one person has gone to extreme lengths to correct the sentence. I personally signed the papers yesterday, agreeing to the pardon and its conditions.”

“Which no one has provided me,” Severus interrupted.

“At my request,” the Minister said. He paused to pour some water, handing it over with a sympathetic shrug. “The other section of our world would be... unamused, to say the least, at your release. As such, my hands were tied until recently. Someone stepped forward with a plan to insure your freedom; a good, working plan to free you from prison and send you back into the magical world with as little trouble as possible.”

Snape's eyes narrowed, a suspicion forming of just which person it could be. “And I suppose I shall be _encouraged_ to reside with my savior? Provide some sort of recompense?”

Kingsley coughed to cover his urge to laugh. “Well, there is the wedding night to consider.”

A calm Snape was a dangerous Snape. Only when pushed to the point of outrage did Kingsley stand a chance at speaking with the true man rather than the spy facade. That the whole situation was amusing merely iced the cake. Watching a mouthful of water spew across the room was more comedy than he'd expected, and he made a mental note to put the whole evening into a Pensieve.

Wiping his face on one grimy sleeve, Severus glared at his tormenter. He could acknowledge, very privately, that the man had excellent timing. His humiliation was put on the back burner in lieu of the fury he first must deal with. Teethed clenched tightly, he demanded verification, “Excuse me, Minister Shacklebolt, but I must have misheard you. Surely you did not just tell me that the condition of my pardon was to be married?”

Stifling his snickers through sheer willpower, Kingsley nodded. “Yes indeed! And your future spouse should be along any minute now with a barber and tailor to get you presentable for the wedding. It is my understanding that your nuptials will be tonight, in a small ceremony on your fiancé's estate.”

Before Severus had the chance to voice further protests, a sharp rap at the door broke his concentrated anger which shifted into worry. Who in the entire magical world had the audacity to demand his hand in marriage?

“Minister,” a timid voice spoke through the door, “your other guests have arrived. Shall I send them in, or do you require a bit more time?”

“Oh please, do send them in!” Kingsley called out with an obnoxious grin.

The door opened and three figures stepped into the room. To Severus' horror, the last one was none other than Harry Bloody Potter.

“Potter! What sort of asinine plan have you come up with this time?”

~ * ~

Severus recalled very little of the fittings, the expert shave and trim, or the ceremony itself. His mind was awhirl with questions, naturally, but not a one was voiced in front of witnesses. Only after the portkey had taken the Ministry officials back to their dens of questionable worth did he turn to face his newest keeper.

“Well Mr. Potter, what have you to say about this catastrophe?” Snape sneered.

Harry shrugged with a sigh. “Let's go inside and have tea. This chat will likely take all night, and I for one am exhausted. Surely you'd like to rest a bit as well?”

With an angry growl, Severus allowed himself to be led inside his newest prison. And while it was nowhere as impressive as Hogwarts near castle, the manor was a vast improvement to Azkaban. Not that he could be swayed into pleasantries by a soft bed, clean sheets, and daily showers.

Potter moved into a well-appointed kitchen, flitting like the nervous little bee he was and nearly making Snape dizzy. Finally, he settled down at the breakfast table with a platter of sandwiches, tea and cakess, waving Severus to join him. Severus refused to let his mouth water at such simple fare. Even if Potter had somehow managed to discover his favorites. Five long years in Azkaban wasn't nearly enough to make him simper like a hormonal Hufflepuff twit at his _husband's_ thoughtfulness.

Potter cleared his throat and swallowed half a cup of tea before beginning to speak. “I, uh, know this is sudden and awkward and all, but it was the only way to get you out of Azkaban. Which you shouldn't ever have been in, even the first time. But if you'll work with me here, we can get along. There's plenty of room, we'd each have studies and workrooms, and we wouldn't have to see each other very often. Just once or twice a month, the-” _cough_ “-conjugal stuff, it's gotta be done.”

Inwardly, Severus was impressed by the boy's near-lucid rant. And his breath control, for having spouted all that without seeming to breathe at all. But it had never been his place to make idiots feel comfortable. “And what is your proposal about the conjugal stuff, Mr. Potter? Am I to lie back and think of Merlin?”

Harry's eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You want me to... ride you? I could probably figure it out, but it's not something I've ever done and wouldn't you be more comfortable, y'know, taking the lead?”

Only through his years of spying and dodging questions from two powerful maniacs kept Severus from showing any emotion. Of course, he was accustomed to dealing with Slytherins, who would use their position of power to greatest advantage. Here was the ultimate Gryffindor, who couldn't possibly be so cunning as to hide his motives through such guile.

“And in return for... servicing you twice a month, what would you expect, Mr. Potter?”

The flush on the boy's face was quite amusing. But perhaps Potter did not believe he could receive pleasure from the act. Oh, what were they teaching adolescents about intercourse these days?

“Wouldn't put it quite like that,” Harry mumbled. Then his notable courage kicked in. Raising his chin and looking straight into his new husband's eyes, he said with a calm, clear voice, “Just keep your things picked up, don't do stinky experiments in the main part of the house, and try not to start an insurrection, okay?”

All of which seemed too reasonable to Severus, but he nodded and finished off the sandwiches in silence.

~ * ~

While Potter fumbled about in the kitchen cleaning up after their meal, Severus wandered around the house. Most of the rooms were bare or had minimal furnishings, but one room caught his full attention. Somehow the brat had managed to get a hold of his possessions. _All_ of his possessions. Items from Spinner's End, from Hogwarts, and even some things from the Prince family vaults that he hadn't seen since he was a small child. Barely unpacked as well, leaving him to sort through the decades of his life he'd never considered missing. More thoughtfulness, or was his keeper simply too lazy to throw out the pitiful pile of memorabilia? He was loathe to ask outright.

Per Ministry instructions, the marriage was to be consummated within twelve hours of the bonding. He shuddered at the prospect of being naked with any Potter, but the day's freedom had left him wishing nothing more than to never see the inside of prison again. Perhaps he had served sufficient time working off his guilty conscience. If not, the gods had seen fit to put him here. _And just maybe serving Potter is the end result. Well, it could be much worse, I suppose. And if the boy is determined that I use his body... ah, the perks of the job._

Stepping out of his study (or suite, since it included a bed and bathing chamber as well), Severus snorted at the juvenile note hanging on the wall across from the doorway. _When you're ready, my room is upstairs at the far end of the hall. H._

Severus stood still for a moment, his mind whirling with thoughts. The boy's intentions weren't as clear as he might like. Guilt, life debt, regret... who knew? And no doubt he was anticipating being used as a vessel with no pleasure for himself. A mind honed from years of double- and triple-spy planning took only a few minutes to concoct a scheme to insure 'domestic tranquility'. His own, of course.

~ * ~

Harry's nerves were screaming in terror, and there wasn't a bloody thing he could do to hide that fact. He'd followed the instructions on a hastily bought gay sex manual to the letter. Cleaned himself inside and out, blushing the whole time. What little dinner he'd been able to swallow wouldn't show itself for several more hours, and he hoped his insides stayed in place for the duration. As old as Snape was, maybe Harry would have time to calm his nerves before his husband got too excited. It often took older men a longer time to become aroused, right? Surely he'd heard that somewhere. Perhaps from a scandal sheet at the grocer's.

Puttering in the kitchen gave him a few minutes alone while Snape explored the study where Harry had all his things stored. But there was only so much cleaning from tea and sandwiches to be done. Finally, he left to sneak upstairs and bathe, flush his system, and try to find a pose that didn't scream “I'm totally clueless.” Nor did he want to appear a slut. Eventually, he settled for not having a panic attack-induced fainting spell, and willed himself into a light doze.

Which was why he could be excused for missing Snape's entrance. The soft click of his bedroom door closing brought him back to wakefulness. And there, standing just a few feet away, was Severus Tobias Snape, feared ex-Death Eater and Order spy, even more feared bat of Hogwarts' dungeons, dressed in tight leather trousers and a loose silk shirt. Harry's mind closed down at the first glimpse of that lightly furred chest glistening in the low candlelight. Why had he thought he could go out-of-body for this?

Severus had no need for Legilimency when it came to Harry Bloody Potter's frantic state. He chuckled low, a deep sound that usually meant wet pants for the offending dunderheads out after curfew, and stalked slowly toward the bed. “Are you prepared for tonight's activities, _Harry_?” he purred, reveling in his prey's audible heartbeat.

Rumors from his years at Hogwarts came flooding back to Harry's mind. _Slytherin Sex God_ had been the awed title given to Draco Malfoy, and he'd heard that Lucius had once held the title as well. Had his new husband been a God at one time, surely the school would've heard, right? Or perhaps it was just something all Slytherins had. Some sort of sensual aura... And Snape had always had that voice! But for the moment, Harry didn't much care – his brain was fuzzy from all the blood rushing to his groin. Hell, he'd never been that quickly turned on by Ginny. Maybe this marriage thing had some benefits, eh?

Watching Potter's eyes dilate in sudden arousal was quite the thing to put Severus in a better mood. He'd never been the type to enjoy deflowering innocents, but this was the so-called hero of the magical world, laid out on his bed like the ultimate sacrifice, and Severus was not one to pass up such a golden opportunity. Potter's body was trim and fit, and on display – whether by design or naivete, the young man was compellingly mussed from his nap, and stripped down to his shorts. Curled loosely around a pillow, his bum stretched the single garment's material, outlining the firm muscles quite nicely.

Seven slow steps took him to within reaching distance of the four-poster bed, just out of arm's reach from his target. Severus flicked open the first two buttons on his trousers, satisfied that Harry's eyes followed his every movement. “How many lovers have you had, Harry? And how many have made you weep for wanting a single touch? Your misguided plan to keep me from suffering, while not entirely unwanted, has placed you into a very... interesting position.” Another button. “It's been years since I've had the time or energy to linger in bed, teasing and tasting a lover's body until he begs.” Another button, and the spongy head of Severus' erection pushed aside the leather. “And you, my _dear_ husband, will look very pretty begging for me.”

Whatever reservations Harry might've had on the few occasions where he couldn't block the thought from his mind as to whether he'd ever be able to get hard for Snape... were completely, totally, devastatingly blown away. He couldn't remember a time when he was so close to exploding without a single touch! And just from the man's presence and voice. But there was a question or two he was supposed to answer...

“Three, and none,” he gasped out. “They were all women, and none of them ever tried... oh please!”

“Very good, husband,” Severus purred in triumph. “Untouched by a man, and now no other will have you. For you have signed your life over to me, Harry, and I never give up what is mine.”

Harry's face fell into his pillow with a muffled cry as his body reacted most favorably to the possessive words. He moaned Severus' name as his cock spewed wildly across the duvet. Every muscle in his body relaxed into a satiated heap, legs askew, arms held limply around the pillow. If he'd had a few spare brain cells, he might have enough energy to blush.

Smugly satisfied, Severus waited until his husband's eyes opened once more. The slithering silk of his shirt fell easily down his arms, landing in a pool of cloudy darkness at his feet. The final button of his trousers stood no chance against his own erection, and he quickly pushed the leather down his legs. He crawled onto the bed, one leg between the boy's limbs, and petted down the sweaty back. Easing the soiled shorts off Potter's body, he settled in to further tease his husband.

“You're nearly pretty when you come, Potter. Alone, that is. I'm quite sure the picture of your young body impaled on mine, straining as your cock readies to release another load, will be infinitely more satisfying. To both of us.”

What little energy Harry had left went into whimpering as his prick made a valiant effort to follow the implied instructions. Grabbing the lubricant potion he'd bought the day before and placed beneath his pillow, his hand shook but eventually managed to find Severus' knee. His fingers released the vial with la bit of effort. Some small part of his Gryffindor bravado refused to let him say the words. Not without further prompting, which he was certain Snape would provide.

Severus ignored the vial of lubricant for more interesting targets: Potter's firm backside, smooth hips, and strongly muscled thighs. Allowing his deft fingers to trace the contours of each muscle group, across the dips and dimples of the young arse, and over each bump of his spine, Snape set to memorizing his new territory. It was a pity he couldn't afford to take too long this first time, but it would be better for Harry if he was still languid from his first orgasm.

Dribbling a small amount of lubricant across the tightly puckered hole, Severus teased it with the tip of one finger til the muscle loosened, flexed, and relaxed into his probing. Harry's breath sped up again, with the occasional moan smothered by his pillow. _A natural bottom, hmm? Whatever would James have to say about that?_

Only after the boy took three fingers comfortably did Severus tip him onto his back. “When I take you, _husband_ , you will be watching my face. There shall be no doubt to whom you have bonded yourself, is that clear?”

Bleary green eyes widened, watching Snape with a wary gaze as the older man moved between his legs. His pillow of security was taken and placed beneath his bum, tilting his hips and opening his legs. Harry watched, mesmerized, as Severus slathered liquid across his cock. All thoughts of good deeds vanished in the reality of their wedding night. Once done, neither man could ever look elsewhere for sexual release; their bonding contract insured that. Stubbornly, Harry refused to let the tendril of fear creep up his belly.

“Crystal clear, Severus.” Harry swallowed hard, and stared straight into the burning dark eyes of his mate. “Do it.”

Slowly, Severus entered the brat's tight body. He had no intention of hurting the boy – that would be counterproductive to his own marital rights. But sweet Slytherin's balls, it took every bit of his limited patience to not dive into the offering before him!

Slow, much too slow! Harry's mind shattered into pieces, most wanting to beg for more, but a few timid pieces whimpering for pity. How had he never heard about how good it could feel? His head thrashed against the bedclothes, his hands clawing into the thick covering, and Harry bit into his bottom lip to keep from pleading.

Beads of sweat gathered on Snape's brow, the exertion of holding back from pounding the boy into the mattress took so much effort. His eyes were drawn to the even, white teeth digging into that puffy lower lip... Surprising himself, Severus leaned down and licked across the abused flesh, as his final inches sank into the boy's arse. As a rule, he never kissed his lovers. That was about release, pure and simple. But here, perhaps, was the exception. If they were to be united unto death, surely it would not hurt to indulge.

Harry gasped as a slick tongue soothed over his sore lip. Kisses he'd had aplenty, having only been with women in the past. But Severus' actions weren't tender or gentle... they marked territory, claimed and conquered. Spots formed across his eyes at the giddy feeling of _giving_ himself fully. His hands released their clenched hold, coming to grasp broad shoulders. There was very little ache involved – whether from the slow preparation, or simply his post-orgasmic lethargy. Harry felt open, ready to receive, and more aroused than he ever remembered being before.

As Potter's hands stroked his shoulders, Severus decided they were both ready for more. A smooth slide out, slightly quicker in, repeating the process until a rhythm was found. The intimate touch of lips and tongue heightened his senses, being so unfamiliar to the act, and he forced himself to open his eyes to stare at his mate.

Harry's eyes flickered open in time to see the questions and worry in Severus' before his shutters came up again. No matter how intimate their position, he knew Snape would hate showing so much of himself willingly. The only thing he could think to do was form a diversion. Shifting his hips up, hard, into the steady thrusts got the point across.

“You're ready for more, are you?” Even to his own ears, Severus' voice came out unsteady. He excused himself due to the current exercise. “How much can you handle, Potter?”

Taking a huge gulp of air, Harry braced himself, hands against the headboard, and stared at his husband with defiant eyes. “Show me what you've got, Snape. I won't break.”

Snape's lips lifted in a sneer, but there was challenge in his eyes. He lifted Potter's hips until they were resting across his thighs, then raised Quidditch-toned legs over his shoulders. With the boy nearly bent in half, he had more leverage and proceeded to put his back into it. After the first dozen strokes, Potter's cry of “More!” made him smirk. “Ah, the magic button all men adore. Like more of that, would you? You'll have to ask nicely, boy.”

Bursts of pleasure flashed aross his vision, making Severus look nothing like the greasy git from Hogwarts. And if he'd only hit that place a few more times, Harry might consider calling him Master. Whatever it took... “Please sir, I'd like some more.”

Snape's smooth strokes stuttered to a halt. He looked at the boy, his husband and bane, to see how intentional the quote had been. “Have you any idea where that line came from, Potter?”

Sweat dribbled into his eyes, making Harry blink hard a few times. His confusion was evident. “Uh, no... just heard it from somewhere. You said to ask nicely!”

Chuckling darkly, Snape snorted. “So I did. Remind me to have a discussion with you about classical literature. Later, much later.” He closed in for another kiss, then decided to knock all sense (what little there was of it) from his young spouse.

Twenty-five-year old men haven't the stamina of their decade younger counterparts. Snape's body was screaming for release well before Harry was ready to explode again. But Severus, determined to make his husband crave their conjugal bed, paused for only a moment of afterglow before slinking down the young, sweaty body to swallow the throbbing cock. His fingers easily filled the newly stretched hole, returning to the boy's prostate to tap away at it while his throat massaged every bit of fluid from Harry's insistent flesh.

Of the three women he'd slept with, only one was willing to blow Harry. And only after he'd gotten her off at least once. So in Harry's experience, Severus was the ultimate Sex God. Showing him the wonders of his prostate granted Snape so many extra credit points that the man would graduate with honors from any school of sexication. He thrashed and howled, his feet pounding the mattress, grabbing Severus' hair without a thought. One last, solid beat inside his bum and Harry was flying, soaring, falling... fainting.

With a wicked smirk, Severus wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, cleaned himself and the boy with a wandless spell, and manipulated them under the bedclothes. “Oh yes, I've still got it. Mr. Potter, we will be speaking about the terms of my parole in the morning. Please try not to hog the covers.”

Mussed hair tickled his nose as Harry nuzzled into the curve of his collar bone, a light snuffle his only response.

~ * ~

After five incredibly bad years of sleep, and one night of mind-altering pleasure, it was no wonder Severus slept so deeply. His dreams weren't filled with regret or remorse, leaning more toward the erotic visions of his youth. Dark, matted hair hid his view of the attentive mouth surrounding him, but the enthusiasm was clearly felt. An accidental brush of teeth against the sensitive crown of his morning erection brought him to wakefulness.

Harry gave a blushing grin, looking up from his task. “Sorry about that. First time for everything, right?” Then he got back to business. If he sucked Snape's cock like a lolly, well, the cranky bastard wasn't complaining very much.

“Mmm, not a bad way to wake up at all, Mr. Potter,” Severus said between breaths.

“Husband.”

“Hmm?”

“Last night,” Harry paused to wipe his mouth, “You called me husband. I, uh, liked that. Much better than Potter.”

 _So the brat's a sentimental sort. It figures. Another piece of ammunition._ Keeping his face impassive was relatively easy, but he forced a small smile for the boy. “Husband then. Is there anything else you would like to try this morning?”

Potter flushed a deep red and buried his face in the crook of Severus' hip. Then he softly mumbled, “Does it feel as good for you?”

It didn't take a genius to determine what the boy was referring to. So his young mate wished for a turn on top, did he? Well, it could only attach the brat to him more deeply. Pity he'd have to walk him through the whole process, but there were tricks even a man could play to appear pleased with his lover.

“If done well, a straight man would weep from joy,” Severus said in a dry voice. “If not, well, it can be rather painful. You must follow my instructions exactly... husband.”

A full body shiver from the boy told Severus he'd said just the right thing. And if the boy proved to be more apt at hands-on training than classroom work, well, he would be the sole beneficiary. Digging out the half-empty vial, he placed it by his side. Tutoring in sensual pursuits could wait long enough for a morning kiss or two.

~ * ~

From the confines of his personal bathroom, Severus sighed as he heard the front door shut. The boy had been good, very good, for a first timer. Age and seldom-used muscles were the only reasons why he might have a problem keeping up with his husband, but he had a few ideas to make up for his minor weaknesses in other ways.

Potter could cook, as he'd discovered after their morning romp. Where he learned and why that talent didn't pass over into potions was anyone's guess. He wouldn't starve, but that was only one task of running a household. Cleaning and laundry, trips to the market, dusting and sweeping, the list of chores tallied up quickly. Perhaps not part of his pardon/marriage contract, but if keeping Potter happy and healthy required such things, it would behoove Severus to see them done.

Once upon a time, Snape would've sworn that he deserved life in Azkaban for his many misdeeds. Having spent half a decade there... No, not anymore. And the fringe benefits of having the boy in his bed were sufficient encouragement to keep him out of the judicial eye.

Muscles relaxed once more, he dried off and dressed, going through each room of the house to see what needed to be done. As he barely remembered from the previous night, the manor was recently finished but only partially furnished. He began a list of the essentials for each room, then a second list of things that would make their lives easier. With three exceptions – the kitchen, Potter's bedroom, and Severus' suite – the rooms needed completion.

Stopping for a light lunch a few hours later, Severus was fairly pleased with his progress. Most of the furniture could be bought by owl post, with the housewares included. Not that he had any idea what sort of tastes the boy would lean toward. Gods help him if the house was splashed with Gryffindor red and gold! If only the brat was around to be asked, but he had no idea where his new husband had gone.

Still sipping his tea, he was only mildly surprised that the subject of his concentration stepped through the door.

Severus stood and retrieved another cup, silently handing it to the wind-swept boy. Potter poured with a grin of thanks and sucked it down quickly.

“Thank you so much, Severus! You have no idea how much I needed that,” Harry said. “The goblins don't serve tea or snacks, and I've been dealing with them all bloody day.”

Severus allowed his eyebrow to raise a bit in question. He refused to become annoyed with the brat today. At least not until he could determine some sort of boundaries. It all came back to what was required of him. Potter still had not given him an answer, but he'd vowed to the previous evening.

“Right, sorry. I left before saying what I'd be doing, didn't I? It's been a long time since anyone needed to keep track of me,” came the chuckling response. “You've got five years of genteel probation – Kingsley's words – before you've got full civilian rights again. Just means that I've got to sign off on some things, but not all. That's what reminded me to make the trip to Gringotts, y'see.”

Actually, Severus did _not_ see, but he was willing to stay silent until he heard the boy's side of things.

Harry went to make more tea, bringing back a large pot on a tray. He nibbled a sandwich while he waited for his next cuppa, drawing a sheaf of paperwork from his robes. “A spare vault key. Yours to do what you like with... well, there's a monthly allotment, but if you can spend it all in four weeks, you'd be better off married to a Malfoy. And a separate account for finishing off the house. All I ask is that less than half the rooms be green and silver, but a lighter green and blues would be nice. If you'd rather I do that while you work out what your lab will need, just let me know.”

Ears perked at the offer of his own private potions laboratory, Severus's silence broke at last. “Which room is designated as my lab? I've made notes on what furnishings were needed based on the appearance of each room, but none looked secure enough for experimental potions work.”

Harry slapped his forehead with one hand. “Sorry! No, the lab isn't in the main house. Like I said last night, I'd rather not have stinky potions work done inside. Would you like to see the workrooms? They're out back, past the herb garden. Hopefully I remembered what needed to be planted for the most common ingredients.”

Severus allowed him a minute to refresh his cup and swallow half, then nearly had to drag the boy in his rush to see his potential domain. He took casual note of the garden, accepting that the climate could not support certain necessary items without magical help. A note was made on his lists to look into that, and perhaps a greenhouse for more rare or costly ingredients as well.

The building itself was as handsome as the manor – cream and rust colored rock with newly planted ivy that would grow to creep up the sides of the home over the years. Inside... was completely and utterly bare. It had a small kitchenette and lav, but other than a few storage cupboards, the facility was empty. Opening his mouth to berate the brat, he was interrupted.

“I know, I know, there's nothing here yet. Being so helpless about all things potion-related, I thought it best to not try to help much. This way you can get what you need and not have to undo anything.” Huge green eyes begged for approval, and for once, Snape had to agree.

“That is... appreciated, Harry,” he forced himself to say. Where was the catch? Every principle House Slytherin had taught was based on reciprocity. A favor for a favor. His suspicions were beginning to make him a bit testy.

Oblivious to his mate's mood swing, Harry grinned. “That's part of the furnishing budget. It's all set up so whenever you make a decision on what needs to be where, order away. Or if you need to look around, let me know so I can be on hand. I'm not your keeper, but the Ministry suggested that I escort you in public so there are fewer incidents.”

It made sense, loathe as he was to admit it. Nevertheless, Severus' pride was stung. Potter was being anything but smug, but his new situation was finally being defined. Five years of having to drag Harry Bloody Potter on any errand other than the market? Intolerable! What sort of cruel joke was this, and whose idea? Oh, it could be one of many people he'd made an enemy of over his lifetime. Or even some random, unknown person with a grudge against all Death Eaters, or against his methods of teaching. Was Potter directly involved? Perhaps not. His guileless expression couldn't possibly be an act – the boy just wasn't that good at fabrication. Could he have been maneuvered into it? Most definitely.

Eyes glittering with suppressed malice, Severus turned slowly toward his spouse. “That would keep down the more vapid types, I suppose.” His mind was racing as he considered this new twist to his freedom.

Harry grinned at him, unaware of the dangerous footing he might face due to Snape's most recent bout of paranoia. “Want to christen it properly? I've heard about people doing that in every room of their new home. No clue why, but if you want...?”

As a diversion, Potter was surprisingly willing. They “christened” his lab, Harry's workroom, and the kitchen before ending in Potter's master bedroom that night.

~ * ~

Severus was bored. Even the most suspicious minds would be driven to counting tiles by the dreadfully long wait of shipments, leaving him with entirely too much time to consider his position. It was easy enough to make Potter content – thereby insuring his continued release – but content was not the same as true happiness. Every bit of Slytherin instinct was screaming at him over the need to keep a Potter, _any_ Potter, happy. But having once again tasted the sweet air of freedom, he'd be thrice damned before allowing himself to be returned to prison.

Hence his mind's twittering. Plans were simple enough to formulate when one had all the facts and a logical end result in sight. Potter, however, was anything but logical. He was such a simple soul, needing very little to be kept satisfied. Food, shelter, companionship, and thanks to Severus, sex. It grated against his ambitious self to become a maid, or Merlin forbid, a housewife. But needs must and all that.

Most of the manor's furniture had arrived, placed and rearranged til Severus was sure not even Longbottom could trip over an errant end table. Books of every subject had been withdrawn from the Potter, Black and Prince vaults to fill the library and both studies, sorted and categorized by usefulness in their respective shelves. He'd even put vases of flowers with sturdy freshening spells in strategic locations.

Now Severus Snape, Potions Master and all-around genius, was bored stupid.

Looking back, he could begrudgingly admit that was the cause of his problem. And the petty program to annoy Potter which developed to keep him from boredom-induced insanity.

A cunning mind was a dangerous thing to waste in rest.

~ * ~

“Severus...” a hesitant voice asked from the doorway. “Would you happen to know why my broom has been polished with green varnish?”

“It was looking rather shoddy, worn in too many places. Do you not like it?”

“Er, not what I'd have chosen, but it's a lovely shade. Thanks for noticing.”

Bereft of the anticipated irritation, Severus growled.

~ * ~

“Severus, the house smells wonderful! I thought it was my turn to cook, but no complaints. I'll do the dishes instead.”

Gritting his teeth, Snape plastered a smile on and accepted the thanks.

~ * ~

“I, uh, hate to ask... but why are my shorts starched and ironed?”

Finally, _finally_! Something that seemed to annoy the brat. “They fit in your dresser more easily when they lie flat. Did I use too much starch? The instructions weren't clear.”

“Actually, you're right. Aunt Petunia used to do the same to Uncle Vernon's. I always thought she was odd, but it makes sense. They took a bit of getting used to, but no worries. You're so clever!”

Feeling much like a cartoon villain, Severus found his plans foiled again.

~ * ~

Replacing his preferred shampoo and bath soap with a floral fragrance was met with comments of how romantic he was. Redecorating was seen as Severus getting more comfortable. Adjusting the garden and flower beds into a maze was “brilliant, really”.

Some days, Severus decided, he just couldn't lose for winning.

~ * ~

Harry would never be a full Slytherin – he had spent too many years surrounded by the other houses, acting on his instincts and impulses rather than making plans – but he could see how restless and unnerved his mate was. The often petty, sometimes cute, and mostly bizarre tasks Severus committed during the day were oddly... endearing.

The man was stuck in a situation he could do nothing about, and was staging a silent protest. What Hermione might describe as a passive-aggressive state. After looking up the term in one of the self-help books from a local shop, Harry decided that it suited his husband quite well. The only way he was comfortable dealing with such small strikes was to smile and compliment each effort. That his responses drove Snape a little mad, well, that was Harry's personal amusement. Some day, far into their future, they would sit back and laugh at this “breaking in” process. If they didn't kill each other first.

~ * ~

Nearly a year into their marriage, Severus changed tactics. His patience for such petty ploys was at an end, and even though he still hadn't uncovered the boy's possible ulterior motives, the accepting, _bubbly_ brat had to want more than the occasional tumble.

Harry came in from his workshop that evening to a candlelight dinner, a roaring fire, and a husband wearing nothing but his dressing gown. Sniffing the air appreciatively, he leaned down to place a kiss on Severus' cheek before joining him at the table. “Are we celebrating? I don't recall a holiday, and we've got another two weeks before our first anniversary.”

“You haven't missed a special day, Harry,” Severus assured him with a small smile. “I simply thought that, perhaps, you might like to indulge in some of the romance of a normal relationship. Admittedly I have little experience in such things, but... we aren't bad together.” It took a mighty effort to keep from gagging at the syrupy words. Words that his husband seemed to eat up.

Flushed with happiness he would never have expected from their situation, Harry's face lifted into a glowing smile. “I've no idea how those things work either, Severus. But it seems like you're doing a wonderful job! Would you like a back massage tonight? I think I'd like to spoil you a bit... maybe a long soak in the tub with me, let me wash your hair and rub your feet?”

The suggestion was tempting – Potter was quite good with his hands, after all – but again, not the response he was hoping for. Even as he nodded his acceptance, the boy reached for his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Severus, I... I know this wasn't your choice, and I've tried to make things as easy for us both as possible. If you'd like to not see as much of me, or need something to keep your mind busy, or just _anything_ , please let me know.” He nibbled his lip then leaned over for a proper kiss. “We've got a hundred years to look forward to, together. I'd like for them to be happy ones. Even if you can't ever love me – you didn't choose me after all – just maybe we can be comfortable, right?”

Such a simple concept hadn't occurred to him. The possibility of a wizard's lifetime – indeed, a hundred years or more - living in constant suspicion and frustration was not very appealing. Severus grudgingly agreed with his mate. Silently. Not that he would ever tell a Potter he was right. Although... that might be a good first step.

“It would be agreeable to attempt such harmony,” he drawled, making the effort to sneer a bit. Why look eager? “Where and how would you suggest we begin this an endeavor?”

Potter's smile lighted up the room, proving the cliche had some basis in reality. The boy stood up and moved to his side, flipping one leg over to straddle Severus' lap. He lowered himself gently, getting comfortable, and raised both hands to cup Severus' cheeks.

“This looks like a good place to me,” Harry grinned, lowering his face to bring their lips together. His kiss was slow and tender, mapping Severus' mouth with his tongue. When they finally broke apart, both needed a few breaths to return to normal. “It's taken this long to learn more about each other than golden boy and greasy git. If it takes another ten or twenty years to be friends or more, that still leaves us with most of our lives to learn how to be really happy together.”

“Sentimental oaf,” Severus groused. It had never been in his hopes for the future to have a steady relationship, but now that he was bound to Harry... it didn't seem so bad.

**_End_ **


End file.
